Revolution

by Mark Church

  “That went pretty well, don’t you think?” asks Jake.

  Amy moves towards Jake who folds her into his arms, “It couldn’t have gone better.”

  “Cole and I had a good, long talk.”

  “Kayla and I did too.”

  “Let’s hope we’ve done enough,” Jake shakes his head. “I’m not ready to be a grandpa.”

  Amy feigns indignation, “What – grandmas don’t do it for you?”

  Not biting, Jake shoots her a sly glance, “Depends on the grandma.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Jake lowers his mouth to Amy’s. Their slightly open lips meet for a long, deep kiss. Just like earlier, the heat builds quickly. Their long-denied passion bubbling just beneath the surface threatens to overflow into a torrent of gasping breaths, flailing arms and groping hands.

  “Wait,” Amy whispers breathlessly. “Not here.”

  Taking Jake by the hand, Amy grabs two blankets and leads him out the front door and to the barn. It may not be the most romantic place but when privacy is at a premium you take what you can find.

  When they enter the barn, they notice a considerable difference between the inside and outside air temperature. Mike and Gena’s strategy of keeping a tamped down fire smoldering in the barn’s wood burning stove has other advantages beyond keeping the animals warm.

  Amy spreads a blanket in front of the stove before opening its access door. The glowing embers produce a subtle light that pushes back the barn’s dark interior. Heat radiating through the opening warms the area around the blanket.

  As if simultaneously instructed to do so, they both kick off their boots. Stepping back and away from Jake, Amy begins a slow strip tease. While she’s undressing, she focuses on his eyes which betray a long overdue eagerness. Exposing her well-proportioned body a little at a time is obviously having the intended effect on Jake.

  Now down to her undergarments, Amy pulls one bra strap coyly over her shoulder and then slowly drops the other before allowing the garment to drop away and expose her firm, full breasts. Jake’s eyes widen further as if trying to take in even more of the exhibition going on before him.

  Amy laughs and slips her thumbs through each side of her panties and begins pushing downward, an inch at a time, one side then the other. Jake’s pulse and breath quicken as Amy’s panties drop below her most private part, then continue downward until they clear her firm, round bottom and slide to the ground.

  Standing naked before her soon-to-be lover, Amy steps forward, stopping just inches short of making contact. Jake reaches out to touch her but she intercepts his hands and pushes them back down to his side. Looking deeply into his eyes, she begins unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and down his arms. She flings it aside and lets her fingers trail down his chest to his waist, where she unfastens his belt and zipper. Slowly she pushes his pants off his hips and to the floor. Her hands slide up his flanks to his waist. Her fingers stretch the waistband of his boxer shorts, sliding them slowly over his hips and to the floor as well.

  Amy reclines on the blanket and with a few curls of her index finger, invites Jake to join her. He slowly lowers himself beside her before gently kissing her face and neck. The urgency that they nearly gave in to earlier has evaporated in favor of a deliberate, methodical seduction, the slowed pace allowing them to build trust and deepen their bond.

  Roaming hands explore trembling bodies as their desire builds. Amy’s quiet moans drive Jake’s deepest needs. Without a word being spoken, they arrive at the critical moment. Gently pushing Amy onto her back, Jake covers her body with his. She opens herself to him before reaching between their entwined bodies and guiding him to the place that only one other man has known.

  At first their lovemaking is tender and gentle. Neither has trusted this much in a long time. Slowly it builds to the point where pent up desires are released, and sexual abandonment found. Their bodies move as one powerful, euphoric organism frantically attempting to consume itself. Time stops. At least for this moment, only they exist.

  Their passion finally reaches its climax with a mind-numbing release that overwhelms their senses. Exhausted and sated, the afterglow of their intimacy lingers. As they lay in each other’s arms the emotional bond that has developed between them is reaffirmed.

  There is no guilt and no second-guessing. They are each other’s present and future, and nothing, at least nothing within their control, is going to change that.

  5 FALSE EDEN

  After his arrival is announced, the head of the SF, General Gage, enters Chief Justice Scoreto’s private office. Two female ‘pleasure’ servers, barely eighteen years old and wearing sheer robes, are flanking the Justice on a large leather couch.

  “Welcome, General. What can I get for you? A drink? Or maybe an hour or two with these pretty young ladies?”

  The two servers smile seductively at the general. Ignoring the girls’ flirtation, Gage responds, “As tempting as that sounds, I have some business matters that I need to discuss with you.”

  “It’s always business with you. You’ve got to learn to live a little.”

  Not to be deterred, the general defers, “Another time perhaps.”

  With a deep sigh, Justice Scoreto sits up. “Have it your way,” and barks at the girls, “Both of you, out!”

  The two promptly rise from the couch and exit the justice’s office.

  “Now what is so important that you feel compelled to turn down an afternoon of well-earned debauchery?”

  “It’s the rebels, sir,” begins the general. “I’ve received word that they are organizing.”

  “Damn it, General!” snaps Justice Scoreto. “Is it really necessary for us to have this conversation again?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the shortwave radio chatter is pretty conclusive.”

  “Good – let them organize. That just means you’ll get to kill them all in one place.”

  “I’m not sure that it’s going to be that easy, they seem pretty determined.”

  “False bravado isn’t going to save them. They are undermanned, undersupplied and they lack weapons.”

  “That may be,” acknowledges General Gage, “but we’ve also intercepted coded communications that indicate rebel groups worldwide are stockpiling weapons and ammunition. Evidently, they are locating pre-war weapons caches. To make matters worse, they know that their backs are against the wall. They know what we did at the RZ’s and they know that we intend to exterminate them. An adversary with nothing to lose is a dangerous one.”

  Obviously agitated, Scoreto demands “Are you telling me that your forces aren’t capable of doing their job, General?”

  “No sir – what I’m saying is that I’d like to move against the rebels sooner rather than later.”

  “Is the RZ cleanup finished?”

  “At our current pace,” General Gage explains, “it will take about two more month to complete.”

  “Then why are you bothering me? I told you that we’ll deal with the rebels once the RZ’s have been sanitized. We can’t have rotting corpses spreading disease.”

  “I understand that,” replies the general as he struggles to suppress his irritation, “but I thought that we could use labor servers to help with the cleanup which would free up most of my soldiers to start the offensive.”

  “That’s not possible. We don’t need to give the servers any more reasons to despise us and seeing firsthand what we did in the RZ’s will only incite them. Did you hear about what happened in the western fields earlier today? A laborer attacked and beheaded a monitor.”

  “Yes,” the general grimaces. “I was briefed.”

  “They’re animals!” Justice Scoreto pounds his fist on the lounge. “Dumb, defeated animals, and I want to keep it that way.”

  ‘Yes, sir.”

  “If there’s nothing else – and you still don’t want to take me up on my earlier offer, I’ll ask that you excuse yoursel
f.” The justice glances meaningfully at the door. “I have pressing matters that need attending too.”

  The general nods politely before turning and leaving the room. He knows exactly what pressing matters the justice was referring to as he passes the two server girls expelled from his office earlier, waiting outside the door.

  As the general walks down the hallway, he hears the justice summon the girls. He thinks, “How blissfully naive the justice is on military affairs. His ignorance is going to cost the lives of many of his men.”

  The general knows that the battle, once waged, will be unnecessarily difficult. Had his soldier pursued the rebels after the RZs fell, the campaign would have been relatively easy. Now, with months to prepare, the rebels could present a formidable opposition. The general never entertains the

  possibility of defeat, which may be his own brand of naivety, but he is worried that it could be an unnecessary slugfest.

  ✽✽✽

  Ultimate Warriors is the primary spectator sport in DC. It expands on the hand-to-hand, combat-style sports that were popular before the war. Simultaneous team fighting, minimal rules, and no protective gear are considered to be exciting improvements. The combatants are mostly game servers, though adventurous citizens and soldiers sometimes choose to compete despite the inherent dangers associated with the game.

  Game servers are chosen based on physical attributes and aggressive tendencies. They are modern day gladiators who understand their role in the ‘new’ world and take pride in their abilities. They avoid the typical server castration policy to preserve their violent nature as well as their virility. Well-connected admirers often enjoy popular game servers privately.

  The rules of the sport are fairly simple; two teams of ten members each, battle to capture their opponent's flag. There is one sentinel on each team with the primary responsibility of protecting their team’s flag, while their teammates go after the opposing team’s flag. The sentinels are provided with a defensive weapon called a staff, which looks like a long, slender wooden spear. Their teammates are required to start without weapons but are allowed to use anything that they find on the field of play. At the beginning of the game, the teams start at opposite ends of the large field and move towards one another’s flag. The field is littered with obstacles and bobby traps that can be disabling or even deadly. Injuries inflicted, either by an opponent or otherwise, often result in fatalities.

  The pre-war Washington Nationals baseball team stadium, now called the Coliseum, is the site of Ultimate Warrior matches. The forty-two thousand seat capacity stadium is always filled to capacity, which represents almost a quarter of the city’s inhabitants. To say that the sport is popular would be an understatement.

  While games are held every week, the most popular are those that include the SF team. Once per month, a group of specially trained soldiers competes against a vastly inferior server team. The matchup guarantees an SF team victory and ensures that they incur minimal casualties while they, in turn, inflict devastating injuries on their opponents. These nights are especially exciting for the local populace. Watching their champions dismantle the outcasts feeds into their sense of superiority and satisfies their blood lust.

  Hannah Iglesia, is attending her first Ultimate Warrior contest. Ken Klinton, a junior member of Congress, invited her. Hannah has been seeing her new beau for about two months, but this is her first time joining him at the games. Fairly certain that she’s not going to like the sport, she promises Ken that she will keep an open mind.

  Hannah is an independent, self-sufficient, twenty-five-year-old woman. She’s the daughter of two American diplomats who are missing and presumed dead. Stationed overseas when the war started, they haven’t been heard from since. Still too young to fend for herself when her parents disappeared, she was fortunate to have two well-connected family friends take her under their wing.

  Shortly after DC was rebuilt, her guardians were invited to relocate to the newly reopened city. In spite of their influence, population limits and strict rules disqualified Hannah from residency until the admissions officer learned that she was a trained teacher. Fortunately for Hannah, teachers are in high demand.

  Hannah immersed herself in her work, partly to forget her struggles and partly because she loved to teach. Preoccupied with her students, she rarely saw the unsavory side of DC, though occasionally, she would get glimpses of its ugly underbelly. Today would be one of those occasions.

  Ken and Hannah arrive in the private booth reserved for Congressional members. The booth sits high atop the stadium. Its panoramic windows and outside balcony overlooking the large field below provide unobstructed views of the action. The expansive room is abuzz with government officials and their guests. The atmosphere is festive. Everyone is excited to see the SF team compete. Refreshment bars on each side of the room flank the plush chairs and couches that fill the room’s center. Beautiful artwork and marble sculptures complete the decorum.

  Approaching one of his friends, Ken calls out gaily, “What’s it take to get a drink around here?”

  “Hey, Kenny boy!” Bill turns and slaps him on the arm. “Glad you could make it.”

  “You know I’d never miss an SF match.”

  “And who is this lovely young lady?” Bill wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  “This is Hannah Iglesia. Hannah, this is my good buddy, Bill.”

  Hannah extends her hand. Maintaining eye contact, Bill shakes her hand and says to Ken, “It’s no wonder you’ve been hiding her, you don’t want competition from me.”

  Ken smiles, “Nothing like that, she’s a workaholic like me.”

  Hannah smiles politely before saying “I spend most of my time at the school where I teach. We have plenty of hungry young minds to feed.”

  “What can you teach a handsome forty-year-old?” teases Bill.

  “Easy there, Casanova,” says Ken lightheartedly. “She’s already taken.”

  “Story of my life. A day late and a dollar short.” Bill groans playfully.

  “Pardon me,” Hannah interjects, “but I need to powder my nose.”

  “The ladies’ room is right over there.” Ken points to a door in the far corner of the room.

  As she is walking away, Hannah says, “You boys behave yourselves while I’m gone.”

  Ken yells back, “Where’s the fun in that.”

  When Hannah is out of earshot Bill claps Ken on the back and says, “Lucky you, she’s a real catch.”

  “I’m hoping to catch her tonight,” says Ken slyly.

  Chuckling, Bill says, “Come on, let’s get that drink.”

  ✽✽✽

  The Coliseum is a bustle of activity as last minute preparations are made for this evening’s contest featuring the SF team. Spectators are filing into the stadium as the combatants warm up on the field. It’s obvious that the SF team is physically superior to their opponents. They are well fed and in peak condition while their opponents appear weak and demoralized.

  The teams that the Game Commission puts up against the SF team are the expendables. These game servers may have been a real threat at one time but now they are at the end of their career and won’t be able to put up much of a fight. This contest is better described as a one-sided exhibition as opposed to a fair match and it never ends well for the servers.

  A handler addresses the server team, “Most of you have had your share of victories on this field of battle and now it’s time for your reward. To fall at the hands of the SF team is a great honor and dying well will ensure your legacy.”

  The servers say nothing; they know this is the natural end for them. Like fighting dogs in their prime, game servers are well provided for as long as they are able to compete at a high level. When they falter, they either become live training targets for the up and comers or they find themselves in their current role, competing against the SF team. Both outcomes are incompatible with longevity.

  As the two teams take their positions the broadcasters announc
e them. The crowd cheers loudly when the SF team is introduced. The SF team waves to the crowd while looking relaxed and confident. The opposing team looks disinterested and fairly calm as if they have resigned to their fate.

  The two teams are unable see each other across the field due to the large obstacles and obstructions strategically placed by the grounds crew prior to the game. The upper tier spectators (in the best seats in the stadium), however, are afforded a bird’s eye view, which will allow them to see all the combatants as they move towards one another.

  A horn sounds to start the game. The soldiers on the SF team immediately begin to move across the field while the server team takes up defensive positions. The soldiers spread out and begin moving forward in three person teams, each obstacle cautiously investigated before advancing. They are careful to avoid the booby traps that were disclosed to only them during warm-ups.

  The first engagement occurs approximately five minutes into the game when four servers, huddling behind a large pile of wooden debris, ambush three soldiers. Thinking that they had a numbers advantage, the screaming servers attacked with sticks they found in the woodpile.

  Swinging their makeshift weapons wildly, they make some successful strikes though they fail to inflict any disabling blows. The soldiers regroup and mount a strategic counterattack as they isolate and attack one server while keeping the others at bay using a defensive formation.

  It’s not long before two of the servers are disabled, one of them fatally, which prompts the two remaining servers to retreat. Running from the soldiers, the fleeing servers disappear behind distant obstacles.

  Standing over the defeated servers, the victors raise their fists in triumph, which prompts the crowd to erupt into cheers. Playing to their fans, two of the soldiers lift the surviving server to his feet and display him like a prize. A chant begins in the stadium, ‘Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!’

  The third soldier picks up one of the sticks previously used by their attackers as his teammates secure the server’s arms behind him. The server glares at the soldier defiantly before saying, “You have no honor, you’re all cowards.”